Babysitting BEGA
by MystieBrookeEllyn
Summary: Garland's job of looking after his teammates might not be easy, but he wouldn't change it for the world...[close family bonding, fluffy, oneshot'd]


**Okay, people, this is my very first Beyblade fic, so I hope it's good! I've wrote for other fandoms under a different account so I'm not a newbie, I just want my first impression in Beyblade fiction to be a good one . I probably should have put more effort into it (this only took two days to type up...well, when your inspired, you don't want to lose it)**

**I think this came out satisfactorily -nibbles nails- I don't really like the start, but I have to say halfway through it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside . I'm all up for constructive criticism, so if there's any faults in the following story, please don't hesitate to tell me! **

**This fic is dedicated to the much-talented Feather-Dusted, who's fics were originally what made me fall for the BEGA team and realize what a great (un)biological family they'd make! **

**Well, now I suppose there's only one last thing to say; **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Garland heaved a deep sigh, akin to one of a man whom had just had the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. He slipped beneath a ream of his bed sheets, allowing his head to fall heavily down upon the silk expanse of his pillow, groaning softly as the mattress sunk to accommodate his weight. 

It had been a long day, filled with excessive amounts of vigorous training regimes and repetitively enforcing many a fruitless attempt to coax Brooklyn away from refereeing the family of opossums that seemed to be challenging two grouchy looking badgers to a gang fight.

The way Mystel had been rooting for the badgers to 'slam dunk those marsupials back to Nebraska' frankly was _not_ contributing any helpful input.

Especially since Garland wasn't entirely sure why exactly a family of opossums were even _doing _in the woods there.

And after wards there was the whole Ming-Ming fiasco, who it became clear apparently failed to go longer than a mere half an hour without issuing a complaint about how thirsty she was, how she had put on the wrong hair band that morning so it now didn't match her socks (which were covered by her _boots_ so you couldn't see them anyway! Garland had stressed) and, most importantly of all according to her, how Moses's large shadow had been blocking the sunlight from her and preventing her from gaining a tan.

And after a grueling hour consisting of diverting his concentration from Blading to pleasing Ming-Ming, a thoroughly peeved Garland had stupidly thought he could then sit down with some reading material he had packed to unwind whilst relishing in obtaining some time to himself for once, only then to have a Moses-shaped difficulty standing in his way to relaxation and effortlessly admonishing his futile aspirations by demanding his five o'clock _cookie_ that Garland was supposedly meant to have packed and, well,...hadn't.

Of course, this doomed equation had resulted in a cranky Moses stomping his feet in angry frustration and inducing the ground to shake precariously, causing a surprised Mystel, who had been lurking around in the near vicinity handing out homemade, crayon-colored tickets to an Opossum VS Badger cage match, to be jiggled up and down on the ground he had been walking across (Garland dreaded to even begin contemplate about the origins of his stationary)

_Then_, Moses, being the soppy git that he was (Garland had grown rather pessimistic by this stage) had apparently sprung a leak and promptly there were tears were cascading down his cheeks thick and fast, sobbing gibberish about how his daily scheduled cookie reminded him of his sister, and that every time he failed eat his cookie he would worry insatiably that a tragic event would consequence and harm Monica.

Erm, paranoid much?

So, once wrestling Mystel from one of the dozen lollipops he carried around with him religiously and thought to be as precious as the freakin' bible, Garland had tried in vain to console Moses with that instead, but noooooooooo! It was then revealed that Moses _hated_ lollipops, because they reminded him about the time he and Monica had blah blah blah'd (Garland had zoned out come this point) and lollipops just effectually ensued another river Nile to pour from Moses's eyes.

Realizing training had officially been canceled, a homicidal Garland had wordlessly stalked into the car park, acknowledging that the entire team would follow him like baby chicks to their mother hen, and shortly instructed the Bega coach driver to conduct them to the nearest outlet that supplied food.

Weakly praying to every single God residing in his knowledge that the rest of the day would run smoothly and all he'd need to do was politely inquire for _just_ Moses to quickly nip into the shop to purchase his cookie, Garland soon analyzed that the Gods were not shining upon him that day. No sooner had they turned in the shop car park and the coach doors had slid open, there had been a mad rush of BEGA teammates racing outside, a cursing Garland bellowing after them that they were about to consume their dinner as soon as they returned home and, unless they were Moses, were_ not_ buying anything food-related.

Of course, it was apparently one of those times when the entire team suffered from the temporary deafness they had been diagnosed with (by a very intelligent, highly academic Doctor named Mystel, nonetheless) and had frankly neglected the epithets he had hurled at them by hastily increasing the speed of their spirited run towards the shop.

And all Garland could do was watch in horror as Brooklyn and Ming-Ming played an impish game of 'follow the leader', a lively Mystel directing them.

Of course, no good could come of this, and Garland's sorry prediction sadly spoke the truth as, soon enough, they were all leaping into one of the countless shopping trolleys lining the outside of the 'Happy Shopper' outlet, Moses flashing Garland one innocent toothy grin before grabbing onto the handlebar and steering them all through the automatic shop doors.

As Garland forlornly listened to Ming-Ming sing her newest song, Brooklyn shouting over her saying he was going to buy some animal crackers and watched in horror as Mystel unfurled his balled fist to reveal a small leather wallet that possessed a vast resemblance to the youngest Tzebult's, Garland considered secretly relocating to an uncharted mountain village in the remote regions of Switzerland.

Then he swiftly admonished this contemplation; he held no doubt that Brooklyn, Mystel, Ming-Ming and Moses could achieve detecting him _anywhere_ in the world. _Especially_ when they craved something (for example, the dreaded five o'clock cookie)

It was ridiculous really. Over the past year, Garland had unwilling instated his status in the team as a sort of 'father' figure (or so he thought, though the countless times Mystel and on the odd occasion Brooklyn, had accidentally branded him as 'Mum' whilst talking debated otherwise) and, as that parental position, he provided to be someone the team could look to for guidance, or leadership. Of course, this being them, they took advantage of Garland's authority as intensely as Tyson did to an 'all you can eat' buffet.

Before Garland knew it, he had become more of a pathetic babysitter than proud team captain, constantly on the receiving ends of Ming-Ming's whining that she couldn't fulfill her chores in the carefully devised rota Garland had spent his _free time_ formulating in a charitable procedure, and all his thoughtful gesture had earned him in return were pouts, protests, and a Mystel falling on top of him in shock from where he had been climbing the chandelier when learning he was first to scrub out the toilet (Garland had promptly rescheduled the plan to determine the Egyptian with another fortnight of lavatory cleaning, investing in a pair of rather dashing pink Marigolds especially)

Not that Garland was a pushover by any means, truth be told, after enduring and surviving the daily trials of 'raising' the BEGA teenagers, Garland was flawlessly confident he'd not only be eligible for, but would **win** a worldwide 'Daddy Of The Year' contest with ease.

He was a figure of authority, was the youngest Tzebult. Just by a passing glance a person knew he was not one to be trifled with, he maintained an aura of confidence which just seemed to radiate with his every firm stride, and sharp eyes that could effortlessly silence someone in mid-rant.

Yes, his teammates come un-biological 'children' tried to push their luck at times, especially with the distinct lack of their true parents's watchful eyes surveying them, but Garland proved more than an intimidating enough force to send them back in line in a sufficient enough fashion.

But, now the problem was 'Deaf ear syndrome' which really wasn't an actual condition, just something Mystel had thought up on his feet when being questioned as to why he and Brooklyn had gone out to dance in the mud and rain.

_After_ they had been clearly instructed to run a bath for themselves.

Thus, the quixotic 'Deaf Ears' had been created, and had spread with a speed akin to wildfire amongst the BEGA teammates, much to a fuming Garland's chagrin. The cure, however, came in the form of a good clout around the ears where Mystel and Brooklyn were concerned, and a few colorfully-worded threats involving the matter of double chores for Moses (since Garland thought best not to physically assault the gentle giant, deciding not to take his chances with the knowledge preserved in mind that Moses could easily crush his bones to dust simply by standing on him) Ming-Ming's were a tad more practical (after all, Garland didn't want to be beaten to death by her fans) He just issued simple but effective warnings, such as playing off her vain side and threatening to discard of her make-up or limit her bathing time by turning off the hot water if she refused to withdraw herself from the tub.

Now, however, with his entire team undoubtably spreading havoc inside the shop like a supernatural force more terrifying than the plague, and out of ear shot to listen to his enforces, Garland's expert parenting skills now failed him.

He glared at the shop and the large cloudy expanse looming above it like a bad omen, already futilely having to tune out the startled cries and fierce curses evoking from inside as he trudged dejectedly towards it, preparing himself for the worst.

* * *

Garland groaned to himself at the memory, shifting listlessly on the mattress even though he knew he was now safe and protected inside the blessed refuging sanctuary that was his bedroom. The police had to be reeled into the preventable mess and Garland, being the only one that looked relatively sane give or take the odd vein pulsing against his temple, had to be the spokesman for the whole sorry fiasco. 

Countless products had been ruined, numerous contents spilling along every spoilt aisles ranging from washing up powder to different varieties of cereal. Drink bottles had been tipped over, bursting and spontaneously drenching their sticky juices over many unfortunate shoppers.

Brooklyn, being a die-hard vegetarian, had failed to alert his fellow trolley riders that he had suddenly chose to depart from the vehicle and had leapt out of the it without warning, causing a startled Moses to lose his footing and tip head first into the redhead's place, squashing Ming-Ming up against the corner bars and flipped Mystel backwards overboard so that the Egyptian had been resolutely hanging on for dear life to the handlebar.

So whilst Brooklyn had gone sauntering off to the frozen food aisle to stage a protest against the 'barbarians' purchasing dead meat, meanwhile the rest of his team had been kidnaped by an unsupervised trolley and were careening across the shop without any restraint or control.

Needless to say, by the time the police arrived, the wayward trolley had landed the shop in complete devastation and vacated it of costumers and staff alike, none of whom accomplishing to prevail and gain command of the vehicle that seemed to have obtained a mind of it's own.

Finally, after running over several ill-fated officers, the trolley had crashed into a large pyramid built purely of bean cans and had toppled onto it's side to spill out the three dazed BEGA teammates.

Brooklyn had then chose that precise opportunity to casually stroll over with a pleasant smile adorned on his lips, looking for all the world like a carefree teenager who hadn't just performed a very active role in the demolishing of the outlet, leisurely tossing animal crackers up into the air and catching them in his mouth, scanning the wrecked vicinity blithely as if it were a field full of daisies.

Even though the disaster had been uncovered to all have been a big 'misunderstanding' when the positively unrecognizably trolley hijackers, covered in several different food and drink products and contentedly eating off of themselves, had been lead outside, Garland couldn't help but get the gist that the interrogating officer somehow held him responsible, the man giving him a curt look of distaste before primly advising him to take better care of the 'little ones' (Garland deciphered this to be Ming-Ming and Mystel, who had wisely acted younger than their actual ages to prevent receiving an inquisition into their part in the destroying of the shop, and had curled themselves into tiny balls whilst smiling angelically at passerby's who would 'coo' at them and give Garland, who was rallied around by police officers, stinky eyes for not being a responsible guardian for them) Moses had not been questioned because, even though he was very much a gentle sole, he was highly intimidating to look upon. He had also been covered in the bubble-gum iced slushie drink that had streamed out it's tap shaped dispenser and cascaded down his front when the trolley had rammed past it's machine, _not _contributing any stimulation to argue with the high possibility he was the raging lunatic the police had him charted as.

A few of the officers had tried infiltrating a three meter radius of a perfectly serene looking Brooklyn, only to immediately be the victims of the wrath of a flock of birds scorned. After running back to the safety of their squad cars with uniforms smeared with stinky white droppings and innumerable pecks marring their skin, the police all unanimously decided that Garland was a more fitting candidate to enquire.

So, by the end of the day, the entire BEGA team had filed back into the coach, the trolley riders chatting vivaciously about having had such a 'fun' afternoon and Garland glaring the bus driver into submission when the man had opened his mouth to remark on their less then presentable appearances. Mystel, who had been covered in the excess bean sauce that had leaked from the pyramid cans, had detected Garland wasn't as ecstatic as the rest of the team were and had wrongly surmised giving the youngest Tzebult a big hug would revive his spirits. However, it just resulted in Garland's mood degenerating progressively more hostile, and, to top it all off, he now had a bean sauce silhouette of Mystel marked down his front.

* * *

Garland shook his head to himself as he broke out of his revere. And, naturally, _he_ would be the one who was going to have to explain to Boris why he would suddenly be receiving a large bill withdrawing a huge chunk of his cash to fund the expenses of the entire refurbishment of the Happy Shopper (Garland also thought the shop may consider a new name for itself, since it was a far cry from remaining a happy outlet anymore) 

"Kids" Garland muttered darkly to himself, before rolling over and allowing his eyes to finally slide closed, his mind teasing the line between remaining awake or dreaming. He was flat-out exhausted, his muscles aching from consecutively being on the move and his throat tender and sore from issuing such a vast degree of berating to the apologetic BEGA teammates.

To be fair, they had all appeared to have been considerably regretting their inappropriate actions. Even **Brooklyn **had resurfaced from his sea of daydreams to vocalize a genuinely sincere 'Sorry, Garland' And then the lilac haired blader had promptly acquired another tight cuddle from a now suitably sanitary Mystel, an embrace of which was begrudgingly accepted purely for the reason Garland enjoyed the smell of the coconut scented shampoo the Egyptian had used.

"_Not_ because I actually wanted it" Garland insisted to himself in a firm statement, though his tone distinctly lacked any traces of conviction as he rolled to the other side of the bed, strangely inept to find a comfortable sleeping position. It was almost as if something was missing...

Afterwards, Moses had selflessly given up the bath he had run for himself so a testy and sticky Garland could occupy it, the gentle giant being quick to replete it with half a tub of those bubbles with the strawberry fragrance he knew Garland enjoyed and lighting several of the expensive aromatic candles he had lined along the rim of the bath that the team only brought out for special occasions.

When Garland had reluctantly terminated his refreshing bath time, he had stepped out only to be met with a range of freshly washed towels that were still warm from being dried, and a fancy new hair bobble he was certain he'd never seen before. This was unquestionably the work of Ming-Ming. The strange thing was, the material of the hair accessory looked highly similar to one of the blue haired girl's favorite dresses...

"Must be a coincidence" Garland grunted to himself, though a nagging little voice harvested in the back of his mind that sounded annoyingly like Brooklyn was telling him otherwise. "She wouldn't cut up one of her best dresses just to design a little bobble for _me_" he irritably told imaginary disembodied Brooklyn Voice, who just kept consecutively negating and assuring him that she would.

Garland, finally disclosing the argument once realizing he was debating with the voices in his head (see what his teammates had done to him!?) Just continued to shift restlessly around the bed, subconsciously knowing he was lacking something, he just couldn't pin-point what...

Suddenly, Garland's head felt something jaggy penetrating through his pillow case and, flicking on his bedside lamp's switch, curiously snuck his hand beneath it and withdrew a tiny rock with a yellow post-it note stuck on it. He felt a smile tug on his lips in spite of himself as his gaze observed the single word imprinted upon it's surface in capitalized thick black marker; **'SORRY'**

Garland placed the rock and note onto his table, clicking the light back off and flopping back onto his bed, suspecting he would now be capable of gaining that much-needed slumber. However...

Ten minutes had ticked by and Garland could still not shake that recurring feeling that he was lacking something, though he still remained no closer to deciphering just what that something was...

Somehow, his mind had unwillingly drifted back to his teammates.

They weren't _that_ much of a nuisance, not really. Sure they could be an insatiable clan of authority-abusers that just _oozed_ inconvenience; but mostly, (well, sometimes), Garland honestly did enjoy their company, and just _them_ period.

They were a wide variety of different personalities, were the BEGA teammates, barely any of them sharing the same trait as another, omitting each of their enamored passions for blading.

They each sustained different traits and qualities that made all of them flawlessly unique, possessing interesting quirks that perhaps they themselves didn't even identify that they had.

Garland somehow found himself smiling. They weren't entirely a bad bunch. In fact, Garland could genuinely say there was some things about their motley crew that he could admit to actually _loving._

Like how Mystel would daily leave thoughtful little post-it notes around the house _just_ for Garland to uncover (such as, the rock beneath his pillow), or when Brooklyn would interject his duration of spending time with wildlife and nature specially to make him a collage of Appollon out of his favorite pasta chunks. And sometimes Moses would even bring him back nice flower baskets to hang up in the garden, or just buy him a simple 'Thank-you' card he'd have picked up in the hospital gift shop whilst visiting Monica. And he also couldn't forget the odd occasion when Ming-Ming would just do little things, like customize new hair bobbles for him out of the material of the old dresses she would throw out, or circle the times for programs in the television guide that she'd think he'd be interested in.

Garland suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash over him for thinking such cruel things about his teammates; sure they sometimes did wrong and disappointed him, but afterwards they would always go to great lengths to redeem themselves in his eyes. Because they respected him; whether it be as a teammate, valued friend or parental figure. And, even though most of the time they acted like silly children that he struggled to tolerate on a daily basis, Garland regardlessly maintained a high amount of respect for _them_ as well. Sure they messed up occasionally, frequently even, but they were still enjoying their youth, and, in some strange way, perhaps they were silently inviting Garland to enjoy himself with them. And he hadn't vocalized a single word to any of them since their homecoming from that disastrous excuse for a training day...

"Hey, Garland?" suddenly, a dim shaft of light infiltrated the veil of darkness bestowed upon Garland's refuge, a mop of disheveled blonde hair rounding the corner of the door, half-lidded blue eyes hopeful that the young Tzebult would still be awake. "Garland" Mystel whispered again, his tired smile wilting somewhat.

"Hmm?" Garland miraculously found his patience now fully restored with all of his teammates after having remembered each of their good points, and the lilac haired teen propped himself up on his elbows to see the pint-sized Egyptian shifting his weight from one foot to the other in a distinct presentation of uncertainty. Garland's lips spread into a welcoming grin, his drowsiness subsiding. Mystel often had that effect on people, he made them _want_ to be as happy and chipper as he perpetually was; though Garland knew it was not only the blonde's presence that had reverted him back to good spirits. He arched two eyebrows at the Egyptian "I found your rock"

Mystel returned his smile, though remained swaying doubtfully in the entrance, something held hesitantly behind his back as he appeared irregularly shy "Garland?" he began tentatively, his beam exchanging to a sheepish counterpart as his hand drew a rectangular object with a smooth, glossy covering from behind him. He looked at his older teammate with an aspirant hope brimming in his blue orbs "I couldn't sleep...will you read me a story?"

Garland, for reasons unknown to even himself, suddenly began to chuckle, confusing Mystel thoroughly. Garland rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation, before inviting Mystel to sit with a swift pat of his hand beside him, and the small Egyptian bounced gratefully to the spot Garland had instigated.

"I couldn't sleep either" Garland admitted, covering Mystel with his bed sheet and accepting the book held out to him as his other hand snapped on the bed side light for the second time that night. He quirked one slim brow wearily "Again?" he asked wearily, upon acknowledging the novel's title.

"It's my favorite!" Mystel chirped simply, pouting childishly at Garland's withering expression as he slid a pointed pink tongue out to waggle impishly at the lilac haired teen.

"Aren't you a little old for Grimm's fairytales?" Garland inquired, smile transforming into an amused smirk as his snide comment earned himself a light punch on his shoulder blade, only to then experience Mystel's head replacing his fist as the blonde nestled in closer to him. Garland had a secret smile playing on his lips as he cleared his throat, and began to read;...

* * *

"Garland, hey, Gar? Are you awa- oh!" Ming-Ming stopped mid-sentence, cradling a pillow case close to her chest for no apparent reason and expanding her brown eyes in slight surprise mixed with bemusement at seeing her two teammates engrossed in a retelling of Hansel and Gretel, Garland even displaying an exhibition of hand gestures to match the particularly detailed parts of the story, Mystel's eyes wide and intent as he desperately tried to cling on to every word Garland vocalized. 

"Aw, Ming-Ming, we were just getting to the good part" Mystel huffed upon noticing the girl standing before them with a hesitant exterior akin to the one he had first worn, and his initial annoyance melted. He grinned warmly at her, threading one hand through his loose hair that had snuck undone of it's braid throughout the duration of the night whilst the other waved her over to them "Want to listen to it with us?"

Ming-Ming looked expectantly at Garland, appearing almost nervous as she twirled a strand of bed-head blue hair. She mirrored Mystel's smile when Garland nodded immediately after pretending to think for a moment, though her cheeks soon stained a light pink that failed to go unnoticed even in the dim lighting "Actually, I was wondering, Garland...would you be a sweetie and heat me some milk? I couldn't sleep" she giggled quietly so as not two awaken Brooklyn or Moses, rocking back and fourth on her heels and wearing that same sugar-coated mask of angelicness that Mystel had when he had wanted Garland to read him a story.

Garland chewed the inside of his cheek, though not out of anger with them, but with himself. They knew which of his buttons to press like the back of their hands.

Prying a feebly protesting Mystel from his shoulder, he hooked his arm under the Egyptian's and hauled him to his feet, steering him and Ming-Ming downstairs to the kitchen...

* * *

"Oh, hey guys" 

"Gyahhh!" All three of the new arrivals started, Ming-Ming and Mystel stumbling backwards into an equally alarmed Garland who narrowly avoided toppling backwards with the sudden twin force of weight tripping into him. Each of the teammates, suddenly gathering their senses and adjusting their eyes to the sudden bright lighting of the kitchen, reflected identical expressions of vexation when they precisely analyzed the exact source of their original shock.

"Brooklyn!" They addressed the pleasantly smiling redhead in a simultaneous whisper laced with accusation, purposefully retaining low voices so as not to awaken Moses, who was apparently the only sleeping BEGA house resident. They at first appeared to be suspicious of how the redhead just kept smiling cordially without a mere flicker of passing surprise at their sudden appearance as they had upon noticing his existence, though then sharply remembered that _nothing_ fazed Brooklyn.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Garland asked him, conveying a vague suspicion of the real reason of his lack of sleep as he guided the sleepy Mystel and Ming-Ming into the rather cold expanse of the kitchen, directing the bleary-eyed twosome to the seats circling around the table and making his way to the refrigerator to gain possession of some milk for Ming-Ming.

"The chi wasn't sitting right in my bedroom, and I didn't think you would all appreciate me shifting furniture around at three o'clock in the morning" Brooklyn explained, afterwards cottoning on to his teammates equal lost expressions of resignation to his word choice and issuing a short bout of laughter beneath his breath at their obvious confusion "In other words, no, I couldn't sleep either"

"Join the club, we have badges" Mystel murmured into the tabletop, cushioning his head in folded arms and allowing his eyes to droop shut. He perked up slightly as Brooklyn teasingly positioned a chocolate-spread coated animal cracker beneath his nose, the lingering sweet aroma wafting up his nostrils alerting him back to perfect consciousness as he made a grab for it.

"Thank you!" Ming-Ming hugged Garland's arm in a deeply appreciative gesture as the young Tzebult placed a heated cup of milk in front of her, and in return Garland patted her head of blue locks before slumping abjectly against the kitchen bunker.

"You look awful" Brooklyn remarked bluntly, before his eyes widened and he shook his head at such a rapid speed it was a wonder he didn't sprain a neck muscle "Awful...awful_ly_ tired, yeah, that's it! That's what I meant..." he faked an off-handed laugh, red dusting his cheeks as all he earned in return was a knowing look from the lilac haired boy.

Ming-Ming looked at Garland over the rim of the cup she was now sipping blissfully from with a dreamy look adorning her face, when her brown orbs appeared to lock on something, and she squealed happily "You're wearing the bobble I made you!"

Garland smiled gratefully at her observation, covering his mouth to stifle a recurring yawn that had been plaguing him "You didn't need to, you know" he told her, feeling a slight surge of guilt spike his veins with the knowledge still fresh in mind that she'd hacked away at one of her favorite outfits to manufacture the hair piece "I know you used one of your best dresses"

She brushed it off with a casual shrug of her shoulder and dismissive wave of her hand, gulping down another mouthful of milk before speaking "Don't sweat it, Garland, I just wanted to make you feel good! And if you feel good, I feel good" she flashed him the peace sign "...And I can always buy a new one"

"Rise and shine, Mystel" Brooklyn sung to the dozing Egyptian that had been nodding off throughout the duration of the conversation, pushing a careworn Mystel from his position on the seat in a simple playful motion, and then gawping as the Egyptian fell limply to the floor, clearly in the throes of a dream when he had mistaken him for just remaining in drowsy consciousness.

"Brooklyn!" Ming-Ming admonished him reprovingly, though choked on a mouthful of milk as she watched Mystel's nonresilient form slide from the chair effortlessly and had to cough violently around laughter.

"No...no more beans, trolley monster, I can't eat anymore..." Mystel moaned, tossing and turning on the floor and batting his hands vigorously in the air to fight back the nonexistent trolley demons.

Brooklyn exchanged a cruelly amused smirk in spite of himself with Ming-Ming and Garland before rolling his eyes and gathering the pint-sized blonde in his arms, relocating him from the ground to his lap and tucking enthusiastically into his still half-full box of animal crackers. He glanced at Garland "Shall we go back to bed now, you're really exhausted, aren't you?"

Garland parted his lips to speak, but any reply he had formulated was never to be vocalized aloud, words dying in his throat as he heard-

"GARLAAAAAND!"

"Good morning to you to, Moses" Garland muttered flatly, nodding in the direction of the doorway and knowing fine well it was a surefire his rally of 'children' would be eager tp follow. He glanced back regardless, only to be met with a rather heartwarming image of Brooklyn walking steadily after him with Ming-Ming and Mystel hanging on sleepily to either of his hands, and the lilac haired blader felt a strange sense of pride stir up inside of him.

* * *

"I had a nightmare" Moses whimpered into Garland's shoulder as the young Tzebelt rubbed his back in a soothingly comforting gesture, nodding understandably as Moses babbled in incoherent vivaciousness about cookies and Monica. 

"Ssh" Garland gently reprimanded him, very aware of the damp tears staining his shirt collecting together and soaking through to wet his shoulder blade with the longer Moses sobbed "It was just a bad dream, Moses, calm down" his parenting methods were practical, yet he never once failed to get his point across. This was proved as Moses reclined from Garland's consoling hold, wiping his sparkling eyes layered with adoration and offering him a watery smile of gratitude.

"Thanks, Garland" he expressed courteously, embracing the unsuspecting Garland into a rib-demolishing hug and stepping up from the bed, suddenly conscious of the duplicate jealous glares penetrating into the back of his head maneuvering accurately from Brooklyn and Mystel's direction.

Humorously to the point of exchanged snickers between Ming-Ming and Moses, the very split-second proceeding after the gentle giant had unattached himself from Garland and had departed from the mattress, the two of them crawled in rapid motion further up the bed and reinstated their hold of lilac haired blader possessively. Mystel's head establishing it's place on Garland's shoulder as if it were his property, Brooklyn choosing to reside his chin upon the pint-sized blonde's head and draping an arm over both him and Garland in copious satiety.

Ming-Ming cradled her head in her hands, leaning over Garland's lap and looking up at him with anticipant chocolate brown eyes, whilst Moses recruited a bean bag from the corner of Garland's room and resettled it to inhabit the column of carpet beside the bed, his head reaching just high enough to settle itself upon the lilac haired blader's spare shoulder.

"Read the stowy pwease" Mystel tiredly lisped because he knew Garland thought it cute when he did so, nuzzling in sleepy subconscious further into the lilac haired teen's warm body, elevating his hand to place it companionably on Brooklyn's arm, feeling the redhead smile into his hair for his gesture. The rest of the team were fast to sound their approval at having the book read to them, each teammate smiling sweet enough to render Garland diabetic.

"You all know that story well enough to recite it word-for-word as it is" Garland chuckled, though despite his wearisome tone, he retrieved the book from the bedside table. Settling himself into a more comfortable position, with one last collective glance at them all, he began to read;...

* * *

Once the story had finished, and so had it's rendition (which had been cleverly been renamed 'Mystel and Brookel' upon request, and had been blended in with the story of the Sleeping Beauty named Ming-Ming being rescued by prince Moses 'Just like the bible told it!' the blue haired female had gushed, and Garland didn't obtain the heart to contradict her that Sleeping Beauty wasn't part of the catholic religion) all of the teammates were silently awaiting sleep to claim them, just relishing in wordless contentment by enjoying each other's company. 

Looking at them all, Garland suddenly realized that the feeling that something had been missing had evaporated. This is what he had craved all along; the feel of his teammates beside him. And, after guiding them up the rocky path to growing up during the year he had known them, Garland realized he really was proud of them, and proud of himself for all the things they did for him.

Like when Brooklyn would draw pictures especially for Garland with the hope he would admire them satisfactorily enough to pin on to the refrigerator door with the thoughtful magnets Ming-Ming would customize with the special kit she'd purchased primarily for that purpose, and Garland would look upon the fruits of their labors fondly as he baked cakes companionably with Mystel, who wanted to learn how to cook without burning the kitchen down like last time. And afterwards, Moses would offer to take him outside so he could practice his martial arts, and perhaps participate in a came of basketball or rugby (Garland wisely chose the former, thinking it bona fide suicide to willingly compete against Moses in a brutal game like rugby)

Sure, sometimes it wasn't so simple, like when having to console Brooklyn when he got frustrated his drawing wasn't good enough, or when Ming-Ming, after completing her magnets, would somehow always manage to achieve concealing herself in a residue of glue and sequins, and how he would have to elevate Mystel up on a foot stool so the pint-sized Egyptian could reach the sink, and then having to wash the blonde's hands _for_ him when he claimed he failed to reach far enough. Also on the odd occasion when the basketballs would be rendered stuck up a tree on accord of a dodgy throw, so then Garland would have to have Moses elevate him precariously towards the sky on his broad shoulders, only afterwards remembering, when he lay paralyzed beneath Moses's bulky form, that Moses was a highly possible candidate for the 'most uncoordinated person ever to stumble the planet' awards.

"Hey, Garland?" Ming-Ming yawned as she toted him out of his rather touching revere, the head that had previously been propped up in her hands now slipping to his knee as her eyes slid closed drowsily "When I win tons of Emi's and get interviewed for my singing career, I'll thank you in all of my speeches. I'll thank every one of you. But Garland especially, for just looking after me"

Mystel stirred on his shoulder blade, cracking open one bleary blue eye "And when I'm traveling, I'll tell everyone I cook for about how the coolest guy ever called Garland taught me everything he knew, and how he treated me and my BEGA teammates like his own little brothers and sister even though I know we annoy him sometimes"

"And I bet Monica knows everything there is to know about you by now, Garland" Moses grinned, rubbing his sleep-encrusted eyes as he fought the progressively losing battle he was weakly fighting to remain awake "I talk about you all the time when I visit her. She can't wait to finally meet you"

"The birds outside like you a lot, Garland" Brooklyn remarked as he nestled into Mystel's hair, his languid voice thick with sleep "Have you heard them singing to you in the morning? I told them your favorite song and they assured me they'd sing it for you when you wake every day"

Garland smiled at them all, relaxing against his pillow and positioning his arms behind his head, a silent invitation to be cuddled into like the human equivalent to each of their favorite teddy bear.

Not a moment later was Mystel's head resting on his chest, Brooklyn sliding the Egyptian down slightly so he could lay his cheek on Garland's shoulder, arm still slung protectively around the blonde boy. Ming-Ming moved upwards to lie opposite Mystel, who in turn placed his arm around her, and Moses's head tipped slightly to roost on Garland's shoulder blade once more, his large arm interlacing around them all.

It truly was a heartwarming image to gaze upon; the sight of five teenagers of varied nationality, age and personality, blending together to create a perfect, if un-biological, family.

"Thank you, you guys" Garland whispered, even though he knew they were all sleeping soundly by this point.

He grinned inwardly to himself. It was testing, sometimes, his occupation of being the official parental (mothering) figure to his sometimes childish teammates. But he prided himself on being one to never decline a good challenge.

Granted he would still devise the occasional scheme or two that he'd never actually perform to unscrupulously lock Brooklyn outside in the garden when he ventured out there to feed the birds, or feel pronounced urges stimulate inside of him to accidentally on purpose push Mystel off the banister he'd be balancing on induced by when the blonde tried his patience; Garland didn't doubt that these rash ideas would occur regardless from time to time, but he now realized he would never actually execute his invented plans, no matter how strong the impulse.

And Garland knew now, that with his teammates nuzzled into him possessively whilst they sighed softly in their sleep, their bodies moving in synchronized time with the steady rise and fall of his own chest, that he wouldn't give up his job of Babysitting BEGA for the world.

* * *

**A/N- Now come on, didn't that make**_** you**_** feel all warm and fuzzy inside? . I know, the ending was kinda cheesy, but if it revolves around family then it HAS to have a cheesy outcome. As I've said, this was my first Beyblade fic, so reviews would be mucho appreciated hint-hint-nudgy-nudgy**

**As a note totally unrelated to the fic; Mystel's voice in the Japanese version totally pwns his English one even though it's a female VA, but check it out .**


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